Chapter
3
Daphne fidgeted while Harriett dressed her in her in a little black dress with matching black stockings for the morning.
“Do you think Bonnie will come outside and play with me today?” she asked her nurse.
She didn’t see Harriett’s look of disapproval.
“I’m going to pick her flowers. She said she misses the smell.”
Harriett’s fingers wavered on a button of her coat. “I won’t hear you say anymore about Bonnie, Child. I should ask her ladyship to move you from that room,” the old nurse muttered under her breath.
“Oh, please don’t, Harriett. Bonnie will be sad if I go.”
“Child,” Harriett clutched Daphne’s arms in a firm hold, “whatever it is that’s been visiting you, you oughtn’t not to speak to it! It’s not of the living, and mind you, it may be an evil spirit.”
She returned to her task, and Daphne slid her tiny feet into the pair of shoes she had set before her. “What happened to Bonnie, Harriett?” she asked absently, and missed the tears that gleamed in Harriett’s eyes at her question.
“T’was rumored she died of the same madness that took her mother, the good Lady Melina,” there was a note of sadness in Harriett’s voice.
“Nurse?” Daphne reached out her hands and touched the moistness that ran down her withered cheeks. “You’re crying.”
Harriett quickly wiped away her tears with a shaky, frail hand, before taking Daphne’s hands and kissing them. “Never mind me, dear,” she sniveled. “I’ll speak of the dead no more. Come now.”
She led Daphne by the hand down the stairs and out the front doors of the manor where they meandered together across the field.
Daphne couldn’t see her own two feet in front of her, only the landscape from a distance far above where she appeared no bigger than a speck.
She tugged excitedly at Harriett’s hand. “Come nurse!” she insisted.
“These old legs can’t keep up with you, dear.”
Harriett patted her head then retreated to the porch steps where she sat down for a rest. She watched as Daphne dashed aimlessly around the lawn with her arms spread out, giggling.
Rayne hovered low, Daphne tipped her head back and waved up at her reflection.
“Child, come away from it!” Harriett was on her feet in an instant, shuffling toward her with her hands in the air to shoo the raven away.
Daphne scampered off, her vision veering, to hide along the side of the house. Rayne kept watch until Harriett gave up on her pursuit of them.
“That was close,” Daphne gasped, catching her breath, feeling Rayne’s claws digging into her shoulder where she came to perch. Her fingers brushed the feathers of her wing. “You better be careful or Harriett will come after you with a broomstick next time,” Daphne warned.
Her raven merely clucked, and Daphne had the feeling that she was gloating over how no one could catch her.
They backtracked into the house, and followed the delicious smell of warm bread emanating from the dining hall. Daphne peeked through its doors and eyed a ripe green apple in the center of table, at the top of the fruit platter. Rayne was fussing on her shoulder in hunger. She vigilantly checked if the coast was clear. The hall was empty for now, and the only noise to be heard was the butler, Old Barnaby, joyously singing in the pantry. They had to be quick, they couldn’t risk the maids or Aunt Valerie seeing them.
“Now, Rayne!” Daphne opened the doors, and Rayne blasted into the dining hall, shooting across the table, and Daphne visualized her claws lengthening, reaching for their prize. She snatched up the apple right from the centerpiece, before rearing around and whooshing for the narrow slit in the doors.
Rayne dropped the apple on Daphne’s cupped palms, and she tore into the fruit, dashing away.
Her vision was moving too fast for her feet to keep up. She lost a sense of direction, and failed to see Annett coming round a corner with a tray full of teacups. Her body slammed against the maid’s; with a shriek, Annett fell over, the tray of teacups dropping from her hands and smashing into bits on the floor.
Rayne searched the rooms for them, until she found Daphne sprawled on the floor with Annett, the tea set in broken pieces around them. Daphne put her hand over her mouth, holding back her laughter.
“That was Lady Valerie’s finest tea set!” Annett cried. “Oh, she’ll punish me for sure!”
Daphne grew stark with fear at her words. The last thing she wanted was to feel a whipping on her backside. She quickly retrieved her apple from where it had fallen, then scrambled to her feet to go hide somewhere.
She felt her way into the living quarters with one hand, while the other fed her the apple. Rayne fluttered to the window and pulled at the drape with her beak to peer outside. Two of the servants were readying a cart to shop at the Marketplace. Daphne wanted to go with them, but Aunt Valerie never allowed it.
She watched with Rayne as the cart rode through the gate, then stepped away from the window with a sigh. Her raven was quick to sense her melancholy, and she snatched back the apple in her long black talons.
“Rayne, give it back!” Daphne chased after her, and in her excitement, she hadn’t realized she’d crossed the barrier into places she was not allowed. She balked in her scurry as Rayne flew up the abandoned stairwell that led to the attic. Rayne perched at the top of the landing and gaped down at her. Daphne glimpsed her reflection at the bottom of the cobwebbed stairs, shifting on her feet with indecision, the terrible story of the witches returned to terrorize her thoughts.
"Rayne, come back here!" she hissed.
The frigid air crept up and shivers crawled up her spine. She didn’t want to be standing there alone, but Rayne would not budge. Whimpering, Daphne scrambled up the stairs, her fingers gliding up the dusty railing. She was just about to cross into the upper corridor when something with disheveled white hair crawled with unnatural speed across the floor and disappeared.
Daphne’s breath hitched and her feet stopped cold.
"Rayne!” she whispered in a quivering little voice. She stood shaking in the dim when she heard Rayne's croak and followed it to where the images led through the narrow hall of portraits. Rayne was waiting for her by the little door at the far end. She fluttered to her shoulder as Daphne pushed it open, and surveyed the inside from its threshold. The flame was still burning in the tiny fireplace, but there was no sign of that eerie presence sitting beside it.
Rayne left her shoulder to perch by the hearth and began pecking at the bricks.
"Rayne, come here!" Daphne reproved, crossing into the room and sinking on her knees next to the fireplace. "We’re not supposed to be up here. You’re going to get us into trouble!"
She took Rayne in her hands, and the raven ruffled her wings to get free. She climbed up Daphne’s arm then croaked pointedly at the hearth. Daphne caught sight of something shimmering beneath the broken bricks. She hooked her finger between the cracks and lifted one of the stones apart. She smiled with delight upon uncovering a hole with a little jewelry box buried inside it.
It was just like the stories Harriett told her of pirates and buried treasure. She reached into the hole, pulled out the box, and opened its lid; a sweet melody poured out. Daphne gasped, she'd never known a box to play music before. Momentarily spooked, she slammed the lid shut, and the tune immediately ceased. Slowly, she peeked open the lid again, and just as before, the music resumed to play.
Daphne listened intently, and discovered that she liked its sound. Inside the box were several pearls whose string was detached. Daphne collected the white marbles, strung them up, then tied the ends together and wound it around her tiny wrist.
She found a small book next, the title was called Love Poems, and the cover depicted a woman in a garden, parts of her bare flesh were covered by the leaves. She flipped through it, the pictures within only appeared in certain lighting of naked people in the most awkward poses.
A folded parchment
slipped out of the pages, Daphne unfolded it; it was a handwritten letter addressed to Sabrine from someone called MacDraven. She wrapped it back up and stuffed it in her dress pocket. Inside were also withered rose petals, some stuck to the bottom of the box, which Daphne gathered up, but they crumbled like dirt in her hands and she frowned in grief.
Next she pulled out a necklace with a wooden figurine strung around it. A smile tugged at her lips as her fingers studied its intricate shape; it was a fairy with wide spread butterfly wings. She hung it around her neck.
Lastly in the box was a golden locket with the name Mordric engraved on the front. Daphne opened it; it contained a picture of the white-haired woman she’d seen in the portraits down the hall. The woman called Lillis Mandrake.
The locket shimmered, reflecting the light pouring through the falcate window across the room. Daphne set the music box aside to crawl near it, Rayne peeked out. Directly below were the rose gardens, a jungle of vines and gnarling trees, while further out was the enormous gate that circled the entire estate. Beyond the gate, Daphne saw the Marketplace, its tiny shops and moving carriages in the distance. She'd never been there before, Aunt Valerie would not allow it. She’d only seen visions of it through Rayne’s eyes.